


How Draco Malfoy Saved the World

by alafaye, Alisanne, FantasyFiend09



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arithmancy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyFiend09/pseuds/FantasyFiend09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Salazar, it’s up to me,” he whispered. “I need to talk Harry Potter out of taking over the world or we are all screwed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Draco Malfoy Saved the World

**Author's Note:**

> **Authors' Notes:** Team Member 1: It was fabulous fun working with my collaborators. Thank you, ladies! ♥ Team Member 2: Thanks to my coauthors for the chance to work with them and do something new! Team Member 3: Thank you to my collaborators. I had such fun bouncing ideas around and seeing the great things you came up with.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

It wasn’t possible. Rubbing his eyes, Draco rechecked his calculations for the fifth time. How could he be the only one who knew about this? Had no one else done the numbers?

Sitting back, Draco stretched, wincing as he heard his neck pop. Before him, spread out on the table, were his Arithmancy calculations, his final thesis, required before he could finally join the Unspeakables. It was supposed to be his masterpiece, his way back to legitimacy.

It figured, he thought with a frown (it wasn't a pout, no matter what Pansy claimed). Of course, just as he was maybe—maybe!—starting to reclaim his reputation, rebuild his family’s name, _this_ would be foretold in the numbers. “Fuck,” he whispered as the enormity of what his calculations meant hit him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He'd actually done his first chart as a test, figuring someone whose future was set would be the perfect baseline. But when he'd seen his results, he'd done a couple more charts to make sure his results were accurate. His own numbers showed his destiny was to be an Unspeakable, Pansy's showed she was to be one as well. But when he'd returned to his original subject, the results had been the same, and it had been far from the expected outcome. "Fuck!"

“Well, that’s a nice welcome.” Pansy sailed in, smirking at him. “What’s wrong now, darling? Arithmancy project not working out the way you’d hoped?” She leaned over, peering at his parchments.

Scowling, Draco tried to block her view with his body. "My work is private."

"Is that right?" Pansy backed off slightly, and just as Draco started to relax, she grabbed at one parchment, plucking it from under his hand. "What's this, then? You're doing _my_ numbers?" She hummed as she read. "Did you do this using that Medieval Arithmancy formula I found?"

Snatching it from her, he huffed. "As I said, that's private! And I found it."

"They're my numbers," she pointed out. “And if I hadn’t suggested you think outside the box, it would never have occurred to you to go back to something so old.”

Draco glared at her as he gathered up his parchments. “We can agree to disagree. What do you want?”

Sighing, she perched on the edge, crossing her legs and letting her ridiculously high-heeled shoe dangle from her toe. “I came because I’m worried about you, actually.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco hunched over his desk, returning to his calculations. “You should be worried about the world,” he muttered. “We’re all doomed.”

“All right, that’s it,” said Pansy. “I need to get you out of here. This project is starting to get to you. What you need is to relax. Let's go to a pub."

"I don't have time to drink," Draco snapped. “The world is in the balance here!”

"Salazar!" Pansy shook her head. "This Unspeakable project has clearly driven you around the twist. You really think you’re going to be able to use this entirely new and unique Arithmancy system to save the world? Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic, even for you?”

Slowly, Draco looked up at her, his mind racing. “No. No I don't.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Fine. So what's your plan, then?”

“I’m going to save the world from the next Dark Lord.”

“Oh?” Pansy sighed. “And who’s that, then?”

Draco held her gaze. “Harry Potter, the boy who lived.”

Slowly, Pansy stood. “You have lost your mind this time, Draco.” Shaking her head, she moved towards the door. “You need to clear your head. And get out of this office."

When she was gone, Draco groaned, resting his head against the desk.

“Salazar, it’s up to me,” he whispered. “I need to talk Harry Potter out of taking over the world or we are all screwed.”

 

-

 

There had to be some way around it, Draco thought as he took the lift to Potter's floor. Maybe instead of killing and torturing, Potter could just levy heavy taxes and squander public funds. That was still evil, right? Maybe Gryffindor Dark Lords were inherently different.

There was only one way to be sure: he had to talk to Potter.

He stepped out of the lift onto the second floor and came to a halt. It was after hours, but the Auror Office was never empty. Did Draco really want to be questioning Potter in front of witnesses? Witnesses that would surely arrest him if it came to light that Potter intended to take over the Ministry and possibly the world.

The thought of Potter rotting away in Azkaban made Draco's stomach twist far more than the thought of him turning evil. Not that it had anything to do with Draco never seeing him again were he to be imprisoned. Nothing at all.

Draco pursed his lips together and thought. He couldn't just haul Potter off for a private interrogation, either. He knew better than to get on the bad side of a Dark Lord—even if Potter wasn't one yet—and interrogating him would be perceived as threatening. No, Draco had to take a subtle approach. He would tease out the information without Potter suspecting a thing.

Confident in his plan, Draco walked right up to the desk where Potter was bent over a report. The report clearly wasn't going well with the way Potter was glaring at it and yanking at his own hair. Draco wondered if Potter's unruly hair was simply the product of such abuse. Perhaps if Potter's hands were permanently bound, Potter's hair would lie flat and tame. No. Nothing about Potter would ever be tame.

Potter must have felt his presence because he looked up at Draco with weary eyes that widened as he recognised Draco. Draco smiled, which caused Potter to look even more surprised.

"You look like you could use a drink."

Potter didn't respond. It was almost like he was expecting an additional comment.

"Let's go get a pint. I'm sure that report can wait until tomorrow." Theo was always leaving reports half-done when Draco needed entertaining and Pansy was being particularly bitchy.

Potter looked behind Draco as if expecting to see other people. "What, just the two of us?"

Draco felt a prickle of irritation. What was that supposed to mean? Of course just the two of them. Sure they had never had drinks alone despite having several mutual friends. Sure they didn't even speak to each other when they were out for drinks as a group. But that was no reason to question Draco's perfectly normal and polite invitation. He gave his best indignant look and was pleased to see Potter's suspicion melt away.

"I really do need to finish this report," Potter sounded exhausted, "but I could use a break." He looked up at Draco with appraising green eyes. "Would you mind making it coffee instead?"

Draco wrinkled his nose at the mention of the black swill from the Americas. "Tea."

Potter rolled his eyes, but smiled. It was the smile Draco often saw aimed at his friends, and it was rather pleasant being the recipient for once. "I think we can get both from the same place."

Draco allowed himself to be dragged to a Muggle establishment full of beat-up books on even shabbier bookshelves. There were odd paintings on the wall and the Muggles serving the drinks had unnaturally bright hair and more earrings than one ear should hold. But Potter seemed happy there, and it suited Draco's purposes to have Potter's guard down.

They chose a small table in the corner and Draco wished he could cast a cleaning spell on it and the chair, but he knew better than to risk it in a Muggle place in front of Potter. Besides, he had more pressing matters.

"So, Potter, how are you finding being an Auror?" Surely something was going wrong in Potter's career if he was going to go from Dark magic fighter to Dark magic doer. Perhaps if Draco got to the bottom of it now, nipped it in the bud—

Potter gave him a sceptical look. "Fine."

Draco resisted rolling his eyes at Potter's terse reply. Apparently Potter wasn't going to open up that easily. "C'mon, Potter. I know we didn't get on in school"—he ignored Potter's rude snort—"but like it or not, we now have the same social circle. We should make an effort for their sake." Playing on Potter's loyalty to his friends seemed to work as Potter gave a little nod and dropped the suspicious look.

"Here. I'll start. I'm working hard to become an Unspeakable. It's a lot of research and calculations, which can be very time-consuming, but it's worth it whenever I discover something new. There. Now, your turn."

Potter shrugged. "Being an Auror isn't quite what I expected. Tonnes more paperwork and endless meetings that don't seem to accomplish anything. It can be pretty frustrating at times. I thought there would be more field time and that the field time would be more interesting."

Uh oh. That didn't sound good. Was Potter going to turn evil simply because he was bored with bureaucratic monotony? He had always been digging around for trouble and attention at school, so it was possible.

"You should bring it up to the Minister."

Potter did not look convinced.

"I'm serious! Aurors are too expensive to have their time wasted. All the training you go through is funded by the government. The Minister doesn't want all that funding to be spent training paper pushers. He had a task force that was rooting out corruption after the war. Now that a few years have passed, I'll bet they are in need of new projects. Making better use of Auror time would help _keep_ the corruption out."

Except that their prize Auror is going to be the most corrupt of all. But Draco was working on that. That's why the Ministry needed Unspeakables: to solve the problems no one else could handle.

Potter stared into his coffee for a long moment before his head began nodding. He looked up at Draco with his intense green eyes. "You know, you're right. Hermione is always saying I should stop complaining if I'm not going to do anything about it."

Ugh. Draco was agreeing with Granger? What was the world coming to? He was glad Pansy wasn't there to smirk and make a comment about how he and Granger would be best buddies if Draco would just give her a chance. Because that was totally something she’d say.

The scrape of a chair brought Draco's attention back to the table where Potter was now standing over him. "I'm going to talk to Kingsley right now." He tilted his head slightly as if trying to see Draco better. "I'm glad we did this. Thanks."

And then he was gone before Draco could question him any further.

 

-

 

Draco considered going to the Minister’s office to wait for Potter while he had his meeting with him, but quickly realised that would only raise suspicions. Yes, he was an Unspeakable trainee and had a right to be anywhere in the Ministry, but it wasn’t _that_ long ago that he’d been linked with the last Dark Lord and under suspicion. No, Draco would have to be careful.

Sauntering past the Minister’s office, Draco took a quick glance inside the foyer. There sat Percy Weasley at his desk, looking for all the world like a gargoyle guarding his master’s door.

Draco paused at the door, pretending he had something on his robes. Making a show of it, he brushed at them, all the while surreptitiously eyeing Weasley.

At least there was no yelling from inside the inner office. Draco racked his brain to try to recall if the office had a permanent Silencing Charm. He imagined it must; no one wanted sensitive government discussions being overheard by all and sundry.

“Was there something you wanted, Malfoy?” Weasley’s arms were crossed, his lips pursed disapprovingly.

“No, not at all,” Draco replied, flicking another imaginary speck of lint off his robes. “I just appear to have got something on my robes.”

“And you believe that standing in front of the Minister for Magic’s door is the proper place to fix that?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “It’s just where I happened to be when I noticed it, Weasley. There’s no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

Weasley’s eyes went flat. “There is no loitering allowed on this corridor, Malfoy. Move along, please, before I call Aurors.”

Draco inclined his head. “Of course,” he said and, moving as slowly as he thought he could get away with, edged down the corridor. He’d just moved out of Weasley’s view when he heard a door open and a couple of familiar voices.

“...appreciate your ideas, Harry. Even though we can’t implement all of them, I do want to hear them. Come and talk with me any time.”

“Thanks, Minister.” Did Potter sound upset? Tense? Draco couldn’t tell.

“Oh, now you know better than that. You’re one of the few who I must insist call me Kingsley.”

Risking it, Draco backed up a couple of steps, peering around the open door. He exhaled when he saw Potter, who looked relaxed and not as if he was about to murder the Minister and take over in a bloody coup.

Potter laughed, looking at Weasley, who appeared about to explode. “Well, on that note, I think I’ll go before I upset the hierarchy around here too much more.”

Weasley coughed, looking away from Potter and spotting Draco. His eyes narrowed. “You should know, this conversation is no longer private.”

Both Potter and Kingsley glanced towards Draco. Potter smiled. “Oh, hey, Draco. Fancy seeing you again.”

“Potter.” Draco inclined his head. “Minister.”

“Hello, Mr Malfoy.” Shacklebolt’s eyes were sharp, assessing. “How’s the Unspeakable programme going for you?”

Draco smiled. “Well, Minister. Very well.”

“Excellent.” Shacklebolt turned back to Potter. “And I’m serious about what I said in my office, Harry. Come to me any time with suggestions.”

“I will. Thanks.” Shaking Shacklebolt’s hand, Potter started towards Draco. “Do you have an appointment with Kingsley, too?” he asked.

Draco shook his head. “No, I just happened to be passing by.”

“Ah.” Potter smiled faintly. “How fortunate for me.”

How fortunate for the world, actually. Draco hummed. “So, your discussion went well I take it?”

Potter sighed. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”

Oops. Draco eyed Potter, looking for signs that he was on the breaking point, about to pull out his wand and start hexing people. He seemed calm, however. Draco exhaled. “So it’s back to your reports now, I presume?”

Potter laughed. “I suppose. Although I could use a cup of coffee.” He paused. “Or tea, as the case may be.”

Draco blinked. Was Potter intimating he wanted to go back to that awful Muggle place and talk more? “Erm—”

They arrived at the lifts and evidently his hesitation had been off-putting because Potter’s expression was indecipherable. The lift came moments later and, as usual, was crowded. Draco and Potter managed to squeeze in, however.

Draco leaned close to Potter. “Potter, if you need to talk more we can go back to that coffee place—”

“No, it’s fine,” Potter said briskly. “I really should get back to those reports.” As they headed down in the lift, he hummed. “Are you heading to the pub tonight? It’s the usual night for the gang to all meet up there.”

Draco shrugged. He’d forgotten about it, to be honest. “Maybe. Are you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” The lift stopped at Potter’s floor and he stepped off. Turning around, he smiled at Draco. “I hope you come. I think you’ll enjoy it.” As people pushed past him and into the lift, he backed up and rather abruptly spun on his heel and left.

When Draco got back to his office, he collapsed in his chair and sighed. He had more calculations to do, but— Eyeing his work, he resolutely scooped it up into a neat pile for the next day before rising to go home and get ready for the pub. I should be there to keep him distracted, Draco decided. Keeping Potter off his Dark path was worth a bit of extra work later on.

 

-

 

Draco shifted in his seat as Potter kept looking at him. Had Draco done something wrong earlier? He thought it had gone...well, it hadn't been all good, but he hadn't said anything really bad either. Had he? Or maybe he should have offered right away to go back to Potter's coffee place after the meeting instead of waiting like he had.

Pansy tapped her finger against her glass, eyes narrowed. "This distinctly feels like school. I thought you and Harry had moved past all that."

Draco snorted. "Well, not all of us are as past it as you and Longbottom are."

She half smiled and settled back into her chair, angled toward said Gryffindor. Longbottom was greeting everyone, having just come in, but he was eyeing their table. "He's nice, Draco. And for all that he prefers to spend his days communing with plants, he's got a solid future. And he...likes me."

"I thought you two were only flirting?" he asked.

She blushed. "Well, we were, but he sent me an owl just before I left." She looked up as Longbottom walked over. "Neville, please, sit. Draco was just leaving. Weren't you?"

Draco raised his eyebrows at her and then smiled at Neville. "Sorry. I didn't know you two were going to try for a quiet moment during our little gathering."

Neville blushed. "I only asked if I could buy her a drink tonight."

"And I want the quiet moment," Pansy said sweetly. "Draco, leaving, yes?"

Draco huffed, but left the table. He leaned against the bar and waved his glass. Seth, the bartender, nodded, but continued working down the line of the bar to fill other drinks. Draco propped his arms up and rolled his glass between his hands.

Someone leaned up next to him. "Draco."

Draco started, looking over at Potter. "Hi."

Potter smiled sheepishly. "I just wanted to apologise. I left a bit abruptly, I know. A lot on my mind."

Draco swallowed hard. "It sounded like that, yeah."

Potter took a deep breath. "So. Maybe we could do it again? Lunch, maybe? Or dinner?"

Draco blinked. That...sounded like... "Sorry?"

Potter shrugged. "I thought that you wanted to be friends. After earlier. You know, the coffee." He smiled. "Sorry, tea."

Draco almost refused, but then he realised that this could be the exact thing he could use. It hurt, though, that Draco had thought that Potter was asking him out, but he hadn't been. Well, to be fair, Draco ruefully thought, Potter didn't know that Draco had approached him because of the charts.

"Yeah, friends," Draco said finally.

Potter pursed his lips as he nodded. "Good. Let's find out if we can be friends, eh, Malfoy?" He smirked. "With an opening for more later on?"

More? Well, fuck him sideways. Draco wanted to hit his head on the table. Nervously, he answered, "Maybe. We'll see, Potter."

"Potter? When do I get to be Harry?"

Draco chuckled. "When you earn it, I suppose."

Potter laughed, too. "All right, then. So how about, for now, you get me another whisky and meet me at my table. For a just-as-friends drinks."

"Sure."

Potter ducked his head and left. Draco watched him go over his shoulder and then, before he could let his head fall forward onto the bar top, he found himself with more company. "Gryffindors. Always where I don't want you."

Granger hummed. "Looked like you were doing okay with Harry."

Seth finally got down to their end of the bar and reached out for a glass. Draco smiled at Seth. "Whisky, neat. And another gin and tonic."

Seth nodded and took Granger's order, too. "Pansy and I talk a lot, now. We gossip sometimes, about the boys in our lives that are a bit too stupid for their own good."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Granger shrugged. "I don't trust that you are suddenly interested in being friends with Harry."

"Because of gossip?"

Pansy, walking behind them to the bathrooms, paused, eyes wide.

"What gossip?"

"Draco asked Harry for a cup of coffee earlier," Hermione cheerfully told her.

Pansy's eyes went wide. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your charts, would it, Draco?"

"Charts? What charts?"

Draco groaned and gathered his and Potter's drinks. "I'm off now. Enjoy your...gossip."

"Draco?" Pansy clasped his arm. “Spill.”

Sighing, Draco turned. "Fine! It might."

Releasing him, Pansy crossed her arms, and Hermione looked between them. "Who wants to tell me what's going on?"

"I'll get you the charts tomorrow, okay?" Draco offered.

"You better."

"Pansy?" Hermione pressed.

Draco shook his head as he walked to Potter's table. Potter smiled and pulled out the other chair with his foot. Cheered, Draco walked faster.

 

-

 

Draco tapped his finger on his spoon, head propped up on his hand. Potter was _late_. Maybe he was doing Dark Lord type things. Draco frowned. What did a Dark Lord do anyway when he was just starting out? Was it making connections, finding followers? Or was it more information gathering, seeing where to hit first?

Maybe Potter had followed up on the Minister’s invitation to see him at any time. He could be putting the Minister under Imperius right then, manipulating the government from the top down. It'd be easy to do for Potter. After the war with You-Know—no, Draco corrected himself. After the war with _Voldemort_ , Shacklebolt would never suspect his former comrade would pull out his wand and curse him.

See? Easy.

But no. Draco vaguely remembered from the bar—his memories were hazy, okay, one too many gin and tonics because of his nerves—that Weasley and Potter were joking about one of their co-workers getting busted for using an illegal hex during an interrogation. Draco couldn't remember why, but he did recall that the Auror had been caught because, to comply with new regulations, all Aurors had their wands checked at the end of the day.

So, no. Potter wasn't going to just Imperius the Minister. That'd make it too easy for him to be caught, and Potter was smarter than that.

"Sorry I'm late," Potter said, jostling Draco into flipping his spoon out of his tea. "Shite. My fault. Let me get you a new one."

Draco sighed and mopped up the mess. "I still have most of my tea. Don't bother."

Potter beamed. "Good. I mean, not that I mind, but I'm glad you still have your drink."

Draco bit his tongue to keep from saying something witty—goodness knew, Potter would probably take it badly and that would keep Potter from spilling his secrets. "And your coffee?"

"Ordered. It'll be here in a moment, I'm sure," Potter said. "So. Let's see. I told you what I don't like about my job last time and the other night. What frustrates you about your job?"

Draco blinked. "Frustrates me?"

"Yeah. I'm sure there's something. Is it paperwork? Or the lack of facts? I can imagine being an Unspeakable, your work can be difficult without knowing what you're doing."

"Well, it can be, but that's why we're Unspeakables, you know. We like mysteries."

Potter sat back and raised his eyebrows playfully. "Is that why you decided to chat me up as it were? Because I'm a mystery you want to solve?"

Draco froze in his seat because, well, he did want to find out how Potter would become a Dark Lord, but he couldn't tell Potter that. "Of course not! You've never been a mystery to me or anyone who went to school with you."

Potter's laugh was unexpected and bright. Draco smiled, unable to stop himself. "Am I really that funny? No, seriously. No one ever laughs when I say things like that."

Potter shook his head. "Maybe it's just me, but yeah, you say a lot of funny things. S'okay, though." He winked. "I like it."

Feeling himself blush furiously, Draco cleared his throat. "You could solve one mystery for me. What actually happened during your meeting with the Minister the other day? Did you solve your work problems?"

Potter shrugged. "Sort of? He said he remembered a lot of meetings when he was an Auror, but when I explained how many meetings we have been having and the paperwork—I mean, I get it. A lot of it was created in the days after Voldemort to stop things from getting that bad, but paperwork can be forged.

"And take, for example, the wand checking. It's great, so long as the Aurors are using their own wands. I think I told you about Byrnes, yeah? With the hex?"

Draco nodded. The waitress set down Potter's cup of coffee and a slice of cake. Potter picked up his fork, but instead of eating it, he looked at it. Just...looked at it.

"There is no spell for seeing who used a person's wand. None. I've looked. After the final battle, I researched wandlore. It's confusing, but fascinating."

Draco frowned. "So you're saying you could have used my wand for any number of illegal curses and hexes and when you returned the wand, the Aurors checking it would have said I had done them?"

"Exactly. So Byrnes gets caught using an illegal hex. But what if he had checked out the suspect's wand from the storage room before going into the interrogation room? The hex he used—you can cast it nonverbally. Our spells for the rooms are for sound only. So, imagine it. Byrnes has the suspect's wand, casts the hex illegal, returns it, no one the wiser. The suspect gets a bigger sentence for using an illegal hex. If his wand had been checked, that is."

Potter looked up, wide eyed. "And that's the kind of thing that has to be stopped! All these regulations are good, but they sometimes aren't enough or aren't the solution. Our suspects could be charged with things that they didn't do, if things continue on like this."

Narrowing his eyes, Draco asked, "And what did the Minister say?" He was, admittedly, nervous. It seemed that Potter's frustrations went further than just the bureaucracy.

"Not much," Potter said quietly. "He said he'd listen to my ideas and see what he could do about reducing the paperwork, the meetings. Maybe crowd source some ideas from the department."

"These things take time," Draco said. "Especially in politics."

"And in the meantime, the corruption continues?"

"It can't be all that bad," Draco argued. "Clearly some of the new regulations are helping, like with Byrnes."

"I suppose. It's just so frustrating, the waiting."

Draco bit his lips. "What if you got out? I mean, maybe working for the Ministry isn't a good fit for you."

Potter finally started eating his cake. "I like doing it, though. Chasing down leads, putting the people who break the law behind bars."

"Private detective?" Draco suggested.

Potter hummed. "Maybe. Can we talk about something else? I'm tired of thinking about that mess."

Draco wanted to keep Potter talking, but he suspected if he pressed, Potter would leave and Draco wouldn't see him for weeks, if again. "What about the Falcons’ chances this weekend?"

Potter grinned. "Against the Cannons? Are you kidding me? Straight win."

"Not since the Cannons hired Williams. He's a damn good Keeper."

"He's straight out of Hogwarts. There's no way he'll be that good against a team who've been playing professionally together for the last several years."

Draco shook his head and, as the afternoon faded away, found himself drawn into a conversation with Potter that had nothing to do with Potter becoming a Dark Lord. And he didn't even know.

 

-

 

Narcissa lifted the china teacup delicately and admired the pansy painted on the side. She enjoyed taking tea with Pansy, and not just for the quality of her loose leaf and china. The Parkinson girl had grown to be far more interesting than her vapid mother had ever been.

She glanced to the other girl sitting opposite her on the floral sofa. Hermione Granger had also been a surprise. Narcissa had once been sure the upstart Mud-- _Muggle-born_ witch would do everything in her power to destroy pure-blood culture, but once Hermione managed some house-elf legislation, she had proved rather reasonable. She had even sought out Narcissa's opinion on various legal reforms, showing a genuine interest in preserving history and culture even as she modernised the Ministry.

But today was not about politics. Today was about something far closer to Narcissa's heart.

She was still struggling to understand the details of what the girls had told her so far. "So this chart determines a person's occupation?"

Pansy popped a biscuit in her mouth and sucked a smudge of chocolate off her thumb. "Sort of. It's not so specific as to say _Chaser for the Falcons_ or _Assistant Junior Undersecretary to the Minister_ , but it would show that someone will be a professional Quidditch player or a politician subservient to the Minister."

"And Harry's chart shows he will become a Dark Lord?" Narcissa tried to hide her amusement. She did not know the Potter boy as well as the others, but she had seen enough of him to know that he was the least likely wizard to take up the Dark Arts. If the chart claimed he would, then the chart was rubbish.

Hermione cut in. "No, Harry's chart shows that he will become an Auror, just as he did."

"Then why does Draco think—"

"Forgive me," Hermione interrupted. Narcissa let the rudeness slide. The girl was impatient but well-meaning. "Harry's chart, _if done correctly_ , shows that he will be an Auror."

Narcissa wanted to sigh. The chart wasn't the problem then. "Dare I ask how Draco erred?"

Hermione looked to Pansy, who rolled her eyes. "The idiot messed up the name. He used his full name and mine, but in doing Potter's chart he left out his middle name." She shook her head, showing the same impatience Narcissa felt. "He made a point to double check his calculations, but didn't go back to make sure he'd started with the correct numbers in the first place."

That was Draco: too clever to be careful and constantly hampered by the mistakes of his own impatience.

Now that Narcissa understood her son's reasoning, she was left to question the reasoning of the young women before her.

"You discovered his error, but have not told him."

Hermione squirmed under her gaze and looked at Pansy. Of course, this would be Pansy's idea.

"I asked her not to. The thing is, as soon as he decided that Harry would become evil, he decided that he would be the one to _save us all_." Her dramatic impression of Draco was rather accurate. "I think he's hoping to talk Harry out of it. In any event, they are spending more and more time together." She gave Narcissa a meaningful look. "Getting along."

Hermione chimed in. "They are together all the time. Draco calls them meetings, but they are what anyone else would call dates. Coffee, dinner, walks through the park."

Pansy nodded. "For months, they wouldn't even speak to each other on pub night, and now they are all but courting."

That was the crux of the matter. Draco had always been obsessed with the Potter boy, but he had never found a functional way of expressing it. He terrorised the boy, always making himself more miserable as Harry grew more antagonistic. Narcissa looked at Hermione. "And what does Harry think of all this?"

"He's delighted. He's been trying to make nice with Draco for months. Years, really."

"As friends?"

Hermione blushed and looked at her hands. "It's not really my right to say."

Pansy snorted inelegantly. "Please. Harry is almost as smitten as Draco is." Hermione gave her a look Narcissa couldn't decipher, but Pansy waved her off. "It's not a betrayal of trust. Anyone with eyes knows that Harry wants him. He brings him chocolate!"

"Draco likes chocolate."

"Exactly."

Pansy turned back to Narcissa. "I know that people usually figure out their own feelings before initiating a courtship, but when did those two ever follow procedure?"

"Harry knows he likes Draco." Hermione seemed to feel the need to defend her friend.

Pansy had no such qualms. "So it's just Draco who's an idiot."

Narcissa saw the one remaining challenge. "If Harry's feelings and intentions are as you say, what happens when he finds out why Draco is pursuing him?"

Both girls looked solemn, but Pansy still managed to grab another biscuit. "Yes, well, there is that."

 

-

 

It was their second outing to a proper restaurant and it felt distinctly like a date to Draco. In fact, they’d seen each other every night that week. This...thing that was happening between them had all the hallmarks of a relationship, although as soon as he thought it, Draco banished the word from his mind. No, no this was just him distracting Harry from his Dark plans and saving the world in the process. Right?

But when Harry would clasp his arm and squeeze for emphasis, or nudge his shoulder playfully as they walked, it felt like something else. Something more.

“...distracted tonight.” Harry smiled at him from across the table.

Draco cleared his throat. “Sorry, just thinking about a project.”

“Care to tell me about it?” Harry sipped his wine. “I feel as though I monopolise our conversations with my work talk. Let’s make it your turn to vent tonight.”

“I wish I could,” Draco said. He smirked. “But that’s the thing about being an Unspeakable. There’s that whole not speaking about sensitive projects thing.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to give me details,” he said. “But surely you can talk about things that generally dissatisfy you. There must be something about the Unspeakables you would change if you could. Or are you trying to say that you’ve found the perfect job?”

Draco bit his lip. “There are rather a lot of tedious calculations,” he said at last. “It’s one thing when you’re doing the first few sets, but you have to check and recheck results because others base their research on your findings, so you can ruin large projects if you’re not accurate. It’s rather a lot of pressure.”

“I can only imagine.” Harry, eyes bright behind his glasses, patted Draco’s hand. “You seem to be thriving under the pressure, though.”

Draco swallowed hard, resisting the urge to move his hand and link his fingers with Harry's. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you seem happy.” Harry trailed a finger over Draco’s knuckles. “I’ve seen you happy and unhappy, and I far prefer the happy version of you.”

Harry cared if he was happy? Draco quashed the surge of triumph. Perhaps it was time to make it clear that he would only remain happy if Harry didn’t become a megalomaniac Dark Lord. But how to say it?

“Being with you here, like this, makes me happy.”

Harry’s eyes widened and Draco wanted the ground to swallow him. That wasn’t how he’d meant to put it!

“Thank Merlin,” Harry breathed, linking their fingers and sending Draco’s thoughts skittering away. “I thought I was the only one who—” He paused, taking a breath. “I like spending time with you, too, but I wasn’t sure you were ready to hear that yet.” He smiled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you can be a bit hard to read sometimes. I’m glad we both feel the same way.”

We do? Draco tightened his fingers on Harry’s. “Yes.”

Harry’s smile was bright. “Should we get out of here?” he asked. “I think the next step we take in this relationship should be private, don’t you?”

There was that word again. Draco opened his mouth to suggest they stay for pudding, but Harry had already signalled the elf, was paying the bill, and dragging Draco out of the restaurant.

Mind racing, Draco tried to think of a way out of his dilemma. Not that he wasn’t attracted to Harry, he definitely was, but wouldn’t sleeping with him to turn him from the Dark side be a bit, well, Dark itself? Not to mention that Granger probably knew what he was doing since Pansy no doubt told her. She was sure to tell Harry, and it would suck if _that_ was what made Harry go Dark—

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Harry whispered as they exited the restaurant.

Draco blinked. “Who says I don’t want to?” He blurted, then almost bit his tongue.

Harry smiled, pulling him into the alleyway behind the restaurant. “You just seemed hesitant, is all.” Gently tucking a lock of hair behind Draco’s ear, Harry leaned close. “Although I think I may have to insist on a kiss or I may go mad—”

Their lips touched lightly. Harry was obviously being careful, but Draco still felt the contact down to his toes. Moaning, he clutched Harry’s robes in his fists, pulling him closer and tilting his head so their mouths could slide together more easily.

Harry surged forward, his tongue probing at Draco’s lips, urging them open. Draco readily complied, shivering as Harry’s hand slid under his robes and shirt to caress his skin.

Stopping, Harry drew back. “Are you cold?” He whispered, eyes searching Draco’s.

“A bit,” Draco lied. “Maybe we should—”

“Move this elsewhere?” Harry nodded. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

Draco bit his lip. “I hate to do this, but I’ve a meeting in the morning, an early one.”

Harry closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Draco’s. “Damn, now that you mention it, so do I.” He sighed. “Tomorrow night? Dinner at mine? That way if things get...interesting again we can let it take its course.”

And it gives me time to figure out what to do about this, about you, Draco thought. He nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Brilliant.” After pressing another kiss to Draco’s jaw, Harry drew back, open happiness on his face. “Right, let’s get you home. Big day tomorrow!”

The biggest, thought Draco. Right. Time to talk to Pansy again.

 

-

 

Pansy wasn't home, so Draco sent her an owl. He wouldn't usually include details in a letter sent by owl, but he couldn't risk her taking the matter lightly and blowing him off for Longbottom. Her reply stated that she was actually with Granger and insisted he join them immediately. He didn't much fancy going to Granger's house—Weasley lived there!—but he really needed Pansy's advice before his date with Harry. And, loath as he was to admit it, he could probably benefit from Granger's as well.

He Flooed into a surprisingly tasteful sitting room lacking in garish colours—like orange.

"In here," came a voice through the door past the hearth. Draco supposed that was how people handled the lack of elves. Shouting across the house. Charming.

Wiping the sneer off his lips, he followed the voice to a hallway and down to a study where Pansy and Granger were bent over some parchment. Draco looked further down the hallway toward the kitchen. Was Weasley in his favourite room?

"Ron's out." Damn, Granger was near psychic. Draco clouded his mind just in case she was using Legilimency. Although she was far too noble to use it without his consent.

He stepped into the study and saw the parchment on the desk included Harry's chart that Pansy had all but pried from his hands. He had known she would show Granger, but it was still awkward to see it sitting out on Granger's desk covered in red ink.

Wait, red ink?

Stepping closer, he saw that Granger had scratched out his numbers in several places and substituted her own. The women silently stepped aside as he pored over the chart. The chart was completely different. He looked to the top and saw his mistake in an instant. The name. He had fucked up the name. He felt his cheeks heat and was sure he was blushing an unattractive shade of pink.

But if he'd messed up the input, then … There at the bottom was a completely different result. Harry was destined to be a defender of justice. An Auror. Draco wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

He vaguely registered a whooshing sound, but he was too focused on the chart to ponder its origin. He looked up to find Granger and Pansy watching him with matching stares that seemed to eat through his clothing until he was naked before them.

"So he is not going to be a Dark Lord?"

"No." It was Granger who spoke, and her voice was flat.

"I had the numbers all wrong." Draco didn't know who he was talking to. He was struggling to process this fundamental change. Harry didn't need saving from being a Dark Lord. He was fine. The world was safe. Draco should have been relieved, but he felt empty. Did this mean he wouldn't see Harry any more? The thought made his chest ache.

When had this become about more than saving the world?

Pansy stepped closer. "I know you've been seeing Harry because you thought you could prevent him becoming a Dark Lord. But now that you know that's not what the chart says, you have to—"

"What?!"

Draco's heart fell to his feet at the sound of the single word spoken with such confusion and anger. He was afraid to turn and see Harry's face, but he couldn't resist. He only had a moment to take in the hurt in Harry's eyes before he was gone, and Draco heard the same whooshing sound from a few moments before.

The fucking Floo. This was what happened when people didn't have house-elves.

He looked over at Hermione, wishing he could be angry with her for not telling him sooner, for being better at his own chart than he was, or for not having an elf like a proper witch. Instead, he found himself wishing she would tell him it would be all right.

She didn't. She simply ran from the room and made her own whooshing sound as she presumably went in search of Harry.

Draco turned to Pansy, and it was all he could do not to collapse against her and cry. It wasn't until that moment that he realised just how much he had grown to need Harry. It was only now that Harry might never speak to him again that he realised how horrible the thought of it was.

"I've really fucked this up, haven't I?"

Pansy wrapped her arms around him. "We all have."

He wanted to question her about that, but he didn't trust his voice. Instead, he buried his face in the familiar scent of her expensive French perfume and allowed her to Side-Along him back to his flat before Weasley came home and castrated him for upsetting Harry in the first place.

 

-

 

Hermione stepped out of the flames into Grimmauld Place and found Harry collapsed on the sofa with his head in his hands.

"I'm so sorry."

He flicked his hand at her. "Just go."

She knew he had the right to be angry with her. She had known the truth and kept it from him, and she knew how Harry felt about being kept in the dark. He had been quite vocal about it back in fifth-year.

His anger at her wasn't the real issue anyway.

"He likes you."

Harry stood abruptly and stormed from the room. She followed the noise up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom where he slammed the door in her face. She could undo any locking charm he could cast, but she respected his wishes and left the door closed.

"I'll leave you alone, but I have to say one thing. He was wrong about your chart, but his actions say a lot about his feelings. He wanted to save you. He didn't go over your head and try to have you arrested. He tried to change what he thought was your fate. And that was before you two started acting like an old married couple. I know you're angry—"

"You said 'one thing' and then you'd leave," Harry barked. The angry words stung, but it was the crack in his voice at the end that made her want to sink to the floor and cry for him.

"I did. I will. Just please consider that his feelings might be genuine despite the nonsense about the chart."

She stood in silence for a long moment before she released a sigh and walked back to the Floo.

 

-

 

After three days of Harry ignoring his owls and avoiding him at the Ministry, Draco had been grateful for the distraction his mother's invitation for tea offered. It wouldn't be an exciting afternoon, but it would pass faster than staring morosely out the window and silently cursing every bird that flew by for not bringing word from Harry.

Draco frowned when Bippy led him toward the back of the house, to the family parlour. It was the beginning of summer and the roses were in full bloom; usually, his mother wanted to sit outside to enjoy it. "Is Mother okay, Bippy?"

Bippy frowned. "Quite well, Master Draco, sir. Why do you ask?"

"She usually wants to sit outside," Draco muttered.

Bippy said nothing in reply.

Draco darted ahead and entered the room before Bippy and stopped dead in his tracks. "Mother?"

Mother smiled and waved to the seat opposite her...next to Harry. "Sit, Draco. I'm glad you accepted my invitation. I haven't seen you in a while."

Draco spun when the door to the parlour closed and locked. He turned around, glaring. "You've been talking to Pansy and Granger, haven't you? I've told you before that—"

"I will talk with whomever I wish, _Draco_ ," Mother said. "If that includes your own friends, it does. Now, please, we have a guest."

Draco swallowed (she never said his name like that unless he'd done something wrong) and stiffly sat down. Mother smiled charmingly and turned to Harry. "Milk, Mr Potter?"

Harry, looking just as nervous as Draco, nodded, but didn't say anything. Mother tutted. "Now, Harry. Draco has taken quite the liking to you and that means you might be my son-in-law in the future—" Draco dropped the cup he had just picked up, eyes wide, "—so don't feel intimidated at all."

Harry cleared his throat. "Of course, Mrs Malfoy."

She raised an eyebrow, pointedly, and Harry quickly corrected himself. "M-mum."

"Better," she said. "If you'd rather call me Narcissa, though, until you're more comfortable saying Mum, that's okay, too."

Harry looked relieved. "Thank you."

She beamed and waved her wand, picking up the cup shards. "Let me take this to Bippy—there really isn't anything quite like house-elf magic to put broken china back together. You boys wait right here. I'll be back in a moment."

Draco crossed his arms and winced when he heard the lock again. Harry moved his chair an inch away. Draco bit his lip. "She'll notice when she gets back."

"And when she does, I'll make up some excuse to leave," Harry said, clearly and evenly.

Draco chuckled darkly. "She's locked us in, you know. I mean, I should have known this was coming. She usually eats outside because of the garden, but instead, she wants to see me in the family parlour?"

"The family parlour?" Harry asked, voice rising. "The family parlour?"

Draco smiled tightly. "She really did mean it when she said you could be her future son-in-law. She's been talking to Pansy and Granger. This is her way of not being subtle."

Harry looked down, thinking. "But then she does know about...well, all of it?"

"She clearly thinks that we can get over it." Draco sighed.

"Can we?"

Draco looked away now. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"For what?" Harry asked bitterly. "Not telling me the truth? For the...dates? For what are you apologising for, Draco?"

"All of it, okay?!" Draco yelled. "All of it—not telling you about the chart, for thinking that you of all people could become a Dark Lord, not telling you that I love you!"

It was suddenly quiet enough that Draco thought he could hear his mother listening at the door.

Harry was smiling, just barely, and his face was full of hope. "You love me?"

Draco rubbed his face and growled. "I didn't...I was just...I wanted to make sure you weren't going to turn into a Dark Lord and instead...instead I was dating you and I realised I liked it, dating you and...I might, I might be falling in love with you."

Harry smirked and stood up. "No, no. You were being very honest there. You love me."

Draco crossed his arms and looked away. "Believe what you will."

Harry sighed and grabbed one of Draco's hands to pull him up out of his seat. Draco frowned. "I apologised—why are you manhandling me?"

"So I can do this," Harry whispered and kissed Draco.

It was the same as the other night, hot and intense, but now, it was tinged with something softer, heavier. And yet, it felt...freeing.

"Mm, now that's better," Harry said as he pulled back. "No more secrets. You were holding back last time."

Draco rested his forehead against Harry's. "I'd really like to take you up on that offer of a private dinner, if that's all right?"

Harry smirked. "How long do you think your mum is going to give us?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "We’re in my family's home! In the family parlour!"

"What?" Harry asked innocently. "Do you really think we'd be the first?"

"Ugh," Draco shivered. "That is not what I want to think about."

Harry's hands slid from Draco's arms to his arse and squeezed. Draco squeaked and arched away, except then his hips bumped into Harry's. He swallowed hard and no, he was no longer having any problem there. Harry smirked as he realised that Draco was quickly hardening. "So. Sofa, or one of those ancient looking chairs?"

"It's all ancient," Draco muttered. He pulled toward the sofa because it would be more comfortable. "But no...just a blow job, okay? I don't trust my mother."

Harry chuckled and pushed Draco back onto the sofa. “ _Just_ a blow job?” he purred. “Clearly I’m going to have to make this the best blow job you’ve ever had.”

"Oh, I don’t know, I’ve had some pretty stellar--” Draco paused, his breath hitching despite himself as Harry fluttered his tongue against the sensitive skin of his neck even as he skillfully undid his flies. And just when had Harry learned how to do that? He moaned as Harry’s hand closed around his erection.

“You were saying?” Harry whispered, stroking him. Drawing back, he smiled into Draco’s eyes. “Hang on.” And dipping his head, he teased the head of Draco’s cock with his tongue.

“Fuck,” Draco whispered, closing his eyes as sensation washed over him.

Harry hadn’t been lying, he was _brilliant_ at blow jobs, and as he closed his mouth around Draco’s cock and pressed downward, Draco shuddered, his fingers clenching in Harry’s hair as pleasure spiked through him.

Draco wasn’t going to last long, not with the way Harry was fluttering his tongue and sucking. “Fuck. I’m going to--”

Harry hummed in what had to be encouragement, and with a gasp and a shudder, Draco’s orgasm welled up, making him arch his back and spill down Harry’s throat.

Pulling off, Harry leaned up, kissing Draco. His mouth was soft, tender, and Draco responded, moaning as the kiss escalated. When they separated, panting to catch their breath, he smirked. “So I suppose it’s my turn now?” he said, sitting up and pressing Harry into the sofa.

Smiling up at him, Harry said, “I won’t object.”

And as Draco began unbuttoning Harry’s robes to get to the warm muscles beneath, he completely forgot that he was in his family’s sitting room.

 

-

 

"I'm so glad you boys made up," Mother said smugly.

Draco blushed and busied himself with sipping his tea. He could swear that the room still smelled like sex despite the three air cleansing charms he and Harry had cast. But they had at least not stained the ancient fabric on the sofa cushions or the Persian rug. Their hands clasped on Draco's thigh, Harry squeezed Draco's hand and smiled. "So am I."

Draco cleared his throat. "I suppose that was the point, though?"

Mother raised an eyebrow. "If you had been in your right mind, Draco, you wouldn't have walked into such an obvious trap."

Harry chuckled and Draco sharply nudged Harry's shoulder with his own. "Just you wait. She'll be plotting ways to trick you now and teach you how to avoid them in the future."

"I do have to make sure that your future children don't outwit you both," Mother pointed out.

Draco and Harry both spit out their tea.

 

 

**Epilogue**

Draco hummed, staring at his reflection. Tilting his head, he performed a couple of concealment spells on the love bites on his neck, smiling as he recalled Harry putting them there.

“Are you almost ready?” Harry called through the door.

“In a minute.” Adjusting the collar of his robes, Draco moved towards the door.

Harry was waiting for him just outside the bathroom, and the moment Draco came though, Harry drew him close, kissing him. “You’re gorgeous. Shall we go?”

Just then Draco didn’t want to go anywhere. He sighed, toying with the collar of Harry’s shirt. “Do we have to? I doubt anyone would miss us if we skip tonight.”

Drawing back, Harry stared at him. “Are you mad? Of course they would miss us. And we’d have Hermione, Pansy, and probably Neville banging on the door demanding to know what’s wrong.”

Draco huffed. Sadly, Harry was right. Pub night had become a tradition that no one missed. And now that they were together, everyone seemed to be watching them closely. Evidently Pansy and Granger felt invested in their happiness together. Who could have predicted that? “I just had to go and fall in love with the Chosen One.” He shook his head.

Harry shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, Neville could have been the Chosen One but for sheer luck.”

Draco frowned. “What?”

“Neville met all the criteria I did, but for one thing.” Harry tapped the faint scar on his forehead. “Voldemort didn’t mark him his equal.” His eyes went distant. “I sometimes wonder what would have happened if it had been Neville--”

Salazar, I should do Longbottom’s chart-- The thought skittered away as Harry turned his attention back to Draco.

“But enough about that,” Harry said, brushing his lips against Draco’s. “We have got to get going now or we’ll be hosting everyone here and we’ll never get rid of them.”

“Fine,” Draco said. “But Chosen One or not, I reserve the right to insist we leave early.”

Grinning, Harry clasped his hand. “Deal.”

The pub was crowded, but their friends had managed to snag their usual table, and as they approached, both Granger’s and Pansy’s eyes went immediately to their clasped hands. Granger smiled, turning away to talk to Weasley.

“All’s well in Paradise, then?” Pansy smirked when Draco glared at her.

Harry chuckled. “We’re fine, Parkinson.” His smile turned sly. “And I presume we can ask the same of you and Neville?”

Pansy blinked. “How did you--?”

Harry shrugged. “I _am_ a trained observer.” Leaning in towards Draco, he murmured, “I’ll get us our drinks, yes?”

By the time Draco sat, Pansy had regained her aplomb. “Every time I think I have him figured out, he surprises me,” she said.

Draco smiled. “I’m still discovering things about him, so I can only agree.”

Pansy sighed. “One day Neville and I may have that.”

Longbottom. Draco narrowed his eyes. “So is it serious, then? You and Longbottom?”

Pansy’s blush was confirmation enough. “It could be. Maybe. Time will tell.”

Just then, as if summoned, Longbottom approached. Handing Pansy a drink, he slid into the booth beside her. “Here you are,” he said to her. He smiled at Draco. “Hullo, Malfoy.”

Draco, mind racing, inclined his head. “Longbottom.”

Harry arrived with drinks, Weasley and Granger in tow, and as they all chatted, Draco did a quick calculation in his head. With a shiver he wondered if Longbottom could have been the Dark Lord he’d been anticipating. I have to go home and do the numbers properly, he thought as conversation flowed around him. Pansy will hex me into tomorrow if I’m wrong, and Harry--

“You’re distracted.” whispered Harry in his ear, startling Draco from his thoughts. “Is it time to go?”

Turning to stare into his eyes, Draco relaxed. So what if Longbottom could become a Dark Lord? He wasn’t one yet, and Harry was there to save them all if necessary. He’d saved Draco, after all. “Yes,” he said smiling. “I think it is.”

 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave your comments here or on [LiveJournal](http://hd-collab.livejournal.com/6782.html). :)


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